Una In Perpetuum
by DaveronCole
Summary: Everything had been going wrong for months. John's life had been a series of ever worsening catastrophes, but this was his breaking point. Of all the mistakes he had made, this was the one he couldn't just let go. Out of the frying pan...
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys, I know I'm supper late to the TSCC party but I just discovered this show through Amazon Prime about six months ago. I have since watched it thrice and read sooooo much fan fiction. This is my first attempt at any sort of story writing and I would really appreciate the feedback of any fellow stragglers out there, especially concerning pace and length.**

**Obviously I don't own the show or any of these characters. **

* * *

If John Connor had made a list of the things he would expect to see after jumping across time, familiar faces would have probably fallen somewhere between a rock concert and a shopping mall, and not their post J-Day equivalents either. Yet here he stood, looking at three people who an instant ago had been his father, uncle, and sister. They had also all been dead: Kyle protecting him before he was born, Derek because he left him on his own against a T-888, and Cameron... That just wasn't a place John could go. Cameron couldn't be gone, he refused to accept it. If she was gone then that was his fault too. There had been no planning and no preparation, instead of an ally or a friend he had seen only an asset, one he had used without hesitation, and it cost him something he couldn't handle. That was why he was standing in the basement of a ruined building with about half a dozen pairs of eyes glaring at him like he was the devil himself, or more correctly, worked for the devil himself.

"Hey! Kid!"

John had to physically shake himself to snap out of his own head. She was right there.

"Derek, who the hell is this?"

John turned and stared at Kyle Reese who, for his part, was glaring daggers at him over the top of his rifle; John hadn't even seen him raise it. For some reason he just couldn't shake the fog that had all of a sudden clouded his thoughts.

Derek replied easily, trying to lessen some of the tension in the room.

"Name's John Connor, seems to know me, ever heard of him?"

"I got nothin'."

Kyle showed no sign of letting up on his rifle. The small voice that spoke next evaporated the last bits of fog from John's mind like the summer sun.

"Kyle, the dogs. He's not metal."

Allison gave John an uncomfortable glance before turning her attention back to Kyle, who finally moved his finger from the trigger of his rifle. Even if he didn't lower it, it felt to John as though the motion had dropped a hundred pound weight from his back. Allison's head twitched nervously and John realized he'd been staring at her.

"Eyes up, she's not for grabs."

The violence in Derek's hiss caught John by surprise, causing him to jerk his head around in a decidedly guilty motion.

"No! Sorry, it's just she looks..." he turned and found Allison's eyes, "She looks like someone I used to know."

There was a sadness in his voice as he finished the thought. Apparently that was enough for Kyle, who finally lowered his rifle. The two men with him followed suit. John hadn't even noticed their weapons aimed at his chest. He was slipping; all the training his mom had worked so hard to impart on him throughout his life and none of it had kicked in.

"Cute. Story time comes later though, we need to move. There's too much activity in this building for Skynet not to show its face here soon."

Kyle's eyes finished scanning his team and found their way back to John's, "any particular reason you're wearing my favorite jacket?"

_Keep it simple, keep it vague. You're in no position to be making up a back story right now. _

"Just the first wearable thing I've come across, didn't realize it was claimed."

John made no effort to remove the coat, and luckily Kyle apparently decided to take pity on him.

"Fair enough, keep it until we come across something else. We've got no shoes for you though so you'll still have to go without for a while longer," he turned his attention back to his brother, "Derek, you're on point, get us to a tunnel so we can figure out who this kid is. Allison, bind his hands behind his back, and keep him honest en route."

Kyle's orders were carried out quickly and efficiently. Derek had the squad set to move out before Allison had finished tying up John's hands. Finally getting his head on straight, John fought down the panic he felt at being restrained. Allison was a little rougher than he had expected, but then again, he realized, it was pretty unfair to expect anything out of her. After all, he didn't actually know her.

John tried his best to look everywhere at once without looking at his uncle, who was waiting for the all-clear to move out. He felt the rope wound around his wrists tighten and turned his hands experimentally. The binding was tight; there would be no way to slip out of it without breaking his thumbs.

"Quit moving."

Hearing such a sharp command in Cameron's voice froze both John's thoughts and movements. He barely resisted turning his head as he felt another rope glide between his wrists. He felt this new rope being tied off and couldn't resist the urge to turn and look over his shoulder. Allison withdrew from her work and flashed a signal up to Derek. John followed the rope from his hands to the collar of one of the German shepherd's Allison had been scratching earlier.

"Boy you must really rub her the wrong way,"

whispered a voice from somewhere over John's right shoulder. Before he could turn to see who had spoken he felt a small hand roughly push him forward to catch up to the already moving squad. If he had eyes in the back of his head, John would have seen an all too familiar glare from an all too familiar face boring into the back of his skull.

* * *

The squad moved quickly out of the basement of the ruined Zeira Corps headquarters and onto the decimated streets of Los Angeles. John luckily remembered not to look shocked at his surroundings, instead keeping his head down and his knees bent, making himself as small a target as possible with his arms bound behind him. The dog currently attached to those arms trotted along at his side with its mouth open and tongue lolling out happily. John instinctively reached out to scratch behind his ears and nearly veered into an exposed piece of rebar jutting from a pile of rubble that was once one of the cities numerous mid-rise office buildings.

_Come on John, get it together._

No one reacted to his stumble. John had the sudden realization that he should probably try to appear in worse shape than he really was, having most likely eaten more in the last two days than these people had in a week. What's more, they obviously had the benefit of working together, whereas he needed to appear to have been on his own for some time. Unfortunately that was as far as John got into thinking up a cover story, as his musings resulted in him tripping over one of the numerous pieces of debris littering the road the squad was trying to navigate. There was a searing pain in his right arm as he was hauled back to his feet by a very irritated looking Allison. His guard dog, unfortunately for John, hadn't noticed his fall and kept trotting along, jolting him off-balance again as the slack was taken out of the rope. For the second time in just a few short moments John felt those two small, familiar, hands hauling him roughly to his feet. John would have been impressed had he not been so used to the strength normally exhibited by those hands. He still hadn't gotten the hang of differentiating between Allison and Cameron, although he was certainly familiar with the annoyed look currently gracing her features. It was a testament to the condition they expected out of the stragglers they came across that his falls garnered no attention from any other member of the squad.

They continued for what felt like hours, moving from ruin to ruin, cover to cover, only crossing the open street when deemed absolutely necessary. The only sound was the monotonous thud of their boots hitting the ground, or a grunt from John as he hit the ground. He tried his best to plant his bare feet carefully, but they still ended up with enough cuts and scrapes to bring out a wince with every step.

John's mind insisted on straying from the littered path at his feet, but apparently couldn't decide what to focus on. The look on his mothers face as she had backed away from him. He still didn't know who had left who behind. It didn't matter. Everywhere he looked John was reminded they had both failed. His failures peppered his thoughts seemingly at random, and the list of the people he'd lost became a constant litany in his mind. Charley because he had felt safe, Derek because he sent him off alone, Riley because he lost sight of who he was, Cameron because he couldn't stand the thought of losing his mother, and his mother because he couldn't stand the thought of losing Cameron. He had been arrogant and rash in his decisions. He had tried so hard to be John Baum, and it cost him everything that made being John Connor bearable.

The squad halted without warning on a silent command from Derek, sending John stumbling into the back of the soldier in front of him, and effectively halting his self loathing.

Derek turned and called back quietly,

"Allison I need you up here with the canaries."

John felt his arms being tugged forward as Allison led him and her dogs to the front of the line,

"Stay tight on my six Young."

As they moved up the line John caught sight of the raised hatch Derek had apparently just cleared of debris. The hinges complained loudly as he lifted the metal grate and peered down the hatch.

"We'll have to carry the dogs, it's too far to jump."

John felt the restraints on his wrist loosen suddenly.

"Start climbing."

Allison's tone left no room for argument and his attempt to wring some feeling back into his fingers earned him a prod in the back with a rifle.

_When did she get that?_ John wasn't given a chance to ask. He had barely gotten started when she ordered him to halt.

"Hold still, look down."

John bit off a smart retort and did as he was told. Allison clicked her tongue and John heard one of the dogs jump on the hatch a moment before he felt it position itself over his neck.

"Drop him and it's your life, he's worth ten of you."

The corners of John's mouth twitched up involuntarily at the sound of such clipped instructions. The crushing guilt he felt immediately after threatened to cost him his grip.

As he made his way down he heard another pair of feet start on the ladder above him. He recognized the clicking that apparently told the dogs to 'hop on' as Allison began her descent. It wasn't long before John's blood deprived hands started to ache. The added weight of the German shepherd on his neck only added to his aches. Luckily it wasn't long after he heard a thud as Derek reached the base of the ladder. Another dozen or so rungs and he felt solid ground beneath his feet.

"Kneel down and he'll jump off."

Apparently Allison had heard the end of his climb. John did as he was told and the dog dismounted gently.

"They're really well trained, is that your doing?"

John was desperately trying to get back on the right foot with Allison Young.

"Quiet!"

Derek's sharp tone took him by surprise, his continued whisper sent chills down John's spine.

"We don't know shit about this tunnel, could be crawling with metal so keep quiet."

No sooner had Allison's own rider dismounted than John felt his hands being thrust behind his back to be restrained. The forgotten cut on his shoulder flared in protest, he gasped before he could help himself.

"Leave them free Young, he won't get anywhere down here if he takes off anyway."

John took it as a good sign that Allison didn't even protest. He hazarded a look at his injured arm. There was a long gash starting near his shoulder. He didn't know where it ended but his borrowed jacket was soaked in blood to his elbow. As he looked up from his arm he caught site of Allison slinging a rifle from around her neck. It was instantly clear she wasn't used to carrying it. The butt of the rifle sat low on her shoulder and she held the stock too far down the barrel. He caught her eyes as she adjusted the leashes in her lead hand. It may have been the darkness but he was pretty sure she didn't glare at him.

His feet screamed in protest as he moved forward behind his advancing uncle. Apparently he wasn't following close enough, earning him a surprisingly gentle push from his guardian. John crept forward until he had to actively avoid stepping on Derek's heals.

Just as they left the portion of the tunnel visible from the light pouring into the open hatch both dogs froze.

"Derek."

John had never seen someone freeze as fast as Derek did at Allison's voice. He felt a small hand grip his jacket and start pulling him backwards. Derek was slowly inching back into the light in front of him, barely avoiding stepping on his toes. The darkness was no place to engage an enemy. Even if they were human they had the advantage of being adjusted to the lack of light.

They had barely made it a foot back before both dogs began barking frantically.

"Back!"

Both Derek and Allison shouted at the same time. John heard the familiar sound of metal legs charging across concrete. His training kicked in instantly.

_Hold__. You can't outrun it and it's too far out to change course now._

His legs screamed at him to leap out of the way, but he knew the terminator was far enough back to change course and intercept him. It never crossed his mind that it might choose to take on one of its armed opponents instead, a lifetime of experience telling him the machines would always target him above others.

Derek opened fire towards the sound of footsteps. John caught a glimpse of exposed endoskeleton as the bolt of blue plasma raced past its target. Derek adjusted and fired again, unfortunately the terminator had also adjusted and his second shot fared no better. Whatever internal clock years of fighting the machines had built into John's head hit zero and he pushed himself into a roll just as the charging machine came into the light. Apparently unarmed, it merely swatted Derek aside, barely slowing as it continued to advance towards its second armed opponent. With Derek out of commission it was Allison's turn to engage. Her shot went wide as she smartly dove out of the way, following the same thought process John had. She was quick, agile, there was a reason she had survived so long.

The machines momentum carried it far enough down the tunnel for John to take his eyes off it and glance over his surroundings. They couldn't play cat and mouse forever and he didn't like the odds of Allison landing a hit before the terminator snapped both of their necks.

His brain was in overdrive. The terminator was definitely a humanoid model, large upper body but a slow reaction time. A deep groan off to his left told him Derek was still conscious. That was good. This model wasn't quite up to John's usual standards, definitely not 800 series.

As his adrenaline fueled brain analyzed his enemy his eyes found something he hadn't dared hoped for; a weapon. Knowing he was pushing his luck not having a visual on his target for so long, John dove forward, grabbing the rifle and rolling on his side just as he heard Allison fire another shot. Judging from the steady thud of the still functioning machine he guessed it was another miss.

John felt the weight of the rifle as he pulled it to his shoulder; it was strange, off-balance. The butt was too light, the trigger too far out, everything about it felt off.

Despite the situation John was acutely aware of his breathing, which was surprisingly steady. He raised his weapon, sighted the terminator's waist, and fired. His shot just missed to the left. Had the machine been able to feel it would have felt its right hip burn as the bolt of plasma raced by, a mere inch from its target. John shifted unphased into a roll as the terminator again raced by its target.

The sights were off. John recalled the sight picture from his previous shot; he'd been dead on. He took advantage of the extra time afforded him by the machines arrogant charge past him and crawled further into the light, coming to a kneeling position just as it came back into view. He heard Allison shout, his brain barely registering the disturbance. He had missed his window to dodge the machine. Undeterred, John lined up his second shot, adjusted for the sight error, and fired. His shot obliterated the right hip of the machine, detaching its leg. Its momentum carried the main body over the crouching John Connor. The last thing he felt before the world went black was a sharp pain over his right eye and the crack of the back of his head impacting the concrete.

* * *

**Well that's how we'll start! Thought I'd try easing into this writing thing. Let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I realize S3 style stories are old hat for most of you guys, and a lot of you have been reading them for years. I'm pretty new to the TSCC fandom and have only been reading folks take on what happens after "Born To Run" for a couple of months now. Hopefully something in this story I've got running around my head is original for you guys. Thank you for all of your reviews, I've been told I'm not allowed to kill off Cameron in this chapter. It took some persuading but I finally decided to cut that part out. **

**Hold up, step away from the keyboard, I'm joking. **

**There will be John and Cameron in this story, I promise, but one of the things I loved about the show was that despite the science fiction, John and Cameron felt real, and I'm trying to stay true to that, although I'm sure that will mean some frustration. I feel it too. Fortunately I can just jump ahead and write some of the interactions I can't wait to get to. **

**Again, I obviously don't own the show or any of the characters. **

* * *

"Young!"

Derek's call came from somewhere off to her right. A lifetime of experience underground allowed her to detect its origin before the echos drowned it into obscurity.

The rest of the squad still on the surface was well-trained; at the first sound of trouble they had frozen in place, still and silent. There was no way to know what would be waiting below if they went in, meaning no one was setting foot on that ladder until they got an all clear. At the sound of his brother's shout though, Kyle's concern got the best of him and he risked a call into the darkness.

"Derek!"

His brother's reply was better than he'd anticipated.

"We're clear down here! The new kid is out of commission but we're clear."

Derek made his way over to Allison, who was in the process of checking John for a pulse. His eyes glanced over the tunnel, taking in the timidly returning dogs that had just saved their skins. Allison had earned her keep a thousand times over training those animals, his eyes searched out the downed machine. Now it seemed she had somehow learned to aim, he gave her solid pat on the back.

"Wow. You did good kiddo, nice shooting."

Allison looked up from John's neck and, although she would never admit it, other parts of his body. Kyle's coat just wasn't meant to cover a man decently.

"That wasn't me."

Derek turned his eyes back to the disabled terminator, noting the plasma burns around its head for the first time, Allison's voice sounded smaller as she continued,

"I can barely scratch a target when it doesn't don't move. Even after John put it on the ground it took me three shots to hit the chip."

Derek took a hard look at the unconscious John, taking note of the rifle just a few inches from his splayed out fingers. He made a mental note to adjust his opinion of the young John Connor.

"He's got a strong pulse but I heard his head hit from over there. We have to get him out of here."

Allison whistled and the two dogs who had been lurking near the wall of the tunnel, previously reluctant to come near the downed machine, trotted over to their owner. She really just had a knack for animals. Kyle often joked she went hunting by simply crouching down and asking the rats nicely to come over to her.

"Alright lets move out."

Derek moved past John and retrieved his rifle, it was pretty damn embarrassing how quick he lost that thing. Derek was an excellent soldier, and there was a reason he normally ended up on point. Getting knocked out of a fight that quick, and losing his rifle to boot, well. That would bruise the man's ego for sure. He shook his head and called to the still waiting squad above,

"Kyle! We're heading in, newbie hit his head pretty good, gonna go see if we've still got friends down this way."

Allison heard Kyle's reply and watched Derek start down the tunnel. He paused after a moment, probably when he didn't hear her footsteps following him. Derek was an excellent soldier, but sometimes the little things escaped him. It wasn't that he was slow or anything, he just had a habit of focusing in on a mission and forgetting the rest of the world.

"How the hell did you expect me to carry him?"

Derek jogged back with an aggravated huff. He lifted John over his shoulder with another and started heading back down the tunnel.

"Same as before Young, stay tight on my six."

Allison didn't need the reminder. Her night vision was improving by the minute but she still couldn't make out details, although she was pretty sure there wasn't another terminator lurking about. Luckily Derek seemed capable of picking out whatever landmarks told him which turns to make.

They were headed to a camp of civilians the squad had come across a little over a month ago. Allison wasn't with them on that trip, but apparently the camp was pretty friendly. Kyle had gone over their fall back options before they set out from camp, in case they got split up, or picked up a straggler they didn't feel comfortable taking back to base. After all, the whole point of this mission was to investigate a suspicious individual.

There was no way of knowing if the camp still existed, but it was better than wandering around in the dark hoping to get lucky. Derek's breathing was getting ragged, the extra weight steadily wearing him down. Allison was just beginning to wonder how much longer he could keep going when John started to wake up. Her relief quickly turned to distress as John began showing obvious signs of a nasty concussion.

"Cameron? Cameron is that you? Why's the light off? Is it nighttime?"

Allison tensed up immediately and helped Derek steady the obviously disoriented John.

"Cameron? Why aren't you answering? Is mom asleep? Where's mom?"

Derek shook him roughly,

"Hey, quiet, we're not in the clear yet."

Allison gave Derek a pleading look,

"He's got a concussion, he's got no idea what's going on."

"Derek is that you? You're dead. Where am I?"

Allison couldn't read the thoughts that flickered across Derek's face. She turned her attention to John, his eyes were fully dilated, and not a straining-for-light-in-the-dark-tunnel kind of dilated,

"John, it's okay, we're almost home."

John's tone turned bitter, his words beginning to slur together.

"We're not almost home. We'd need a home to almost be home."

Derek turned to begin moving back down the tunnel,

"You've got to keep him quiet, we can't travel with him going on like this."

Allison wrapped her arm around his shoulder and gently propelled him behind her advancing friend.

"What do you want me to do knock him on the head? In this state it could kill him!"

"He keeps on like this and we'll all be dead."

There was an edge to Derek's voice, Allison could practically hear his teeth grinding together. He was right though. Sooner or later something would hear them, and "something" was usually never friendly. She couldn't just kill him though, he had just saved both their lives.

"Look, let's just hurry up and get there. How much further?"

"About ten minutes, can you keep him quiet for that long?"

Allison turned to John who was still mumbling something to his "Cameron". Allison hazarded a guess this was the girl Allison had reminded him of back in the basement. She could try to use that.

"Listen, John, it's Cameron. Everything's alright but we've got to stay quiet understand?"

The effect was instantaneous as creases of panic Allison hadn't even noticed were there fell away.

"Okay Cameron whatever you say. Hey where's mom?"

John sounded noticeably more relaxed. Allison's mind worked in overdrive to keep up the conversation.

"She's asleep John, you've got to stay quiet or you'll wake her up."

Derek picked up his pace, Allison was nearly dragging the stumbling John along behind him. John's rambles became incomprehensible as they started moving again, but they continued at a blessedly lower volume. She make out much, but occasionally different words would come through. Mostly what she heard were references to people, Cameron and Mom being the most frequent, but he mentioned others too.

The third time she dropped her rifle Derek took it and carried it himself. Allison had expected to see irritation on his face, but was instead shocked at the sympathetic look he gave her. They were making good time but it was costing Allison every bit of strength she had. John seemed like he was trying to help, but he didn't have much control over the direction he was helping in, sending Allison drifting across the breadth of the tunnels and into walls and crevices. He kept up a steady stream of mumbled questions, with Allison periodically whispering what she hoped were comforting replies into his ear when she could spare the breath.

Finally, bruised, battered, and out of breath, she got the signal to halt in front of one of the large circular doors used to seal off sections the tunnels. Derek knocked twice and started turning the latch. Before he could finish the door swung open, propelled from the other side by two civilians who quickly pointed handguns at their chests, one of them taking much more interest in his target than the other.

"We're friendly! Me and my brother came by here about a month ago."

The two guards, Allison assumed they were guards, lowered their weapons and ushered them inside, giving the still mumbling John a curious glance. This was apparently a very trusting camp, it was a miracle they were still around.

"He's got a concussion, hit his head pretty bad taking out some metal further up the tunnel."

Allison made sure to include the fact that he had been the one to take down the machine in her explanation. The guards relaxed noticeably, their shoulders dropping with their weapons. One led them through a second door and began talking comfortably. They were very, very lucky this camp was still around.

"Did the machine you guys took down have any sort of covering? We got hit by one a couple of weeks ago that was covered in rubber. It looked human in the dark but it wasn't much of a disguise once we got into the light. Took out a good chunk of the camp though, including our medic, so I'm not sure how much help we'll be for your friend."

A knowing look passed between Derek and Allison. Runners had come into their own camp for weeks with similar stories, which was fortunate, as their warning had probably saved quite a few lives. Allison had been with her dogs at the entrance when the machine came, allowing them to pick it off before it could do any real damage.

"No it was all metal, seen a couple of those though. We call them infiltrators, although they haven't got much of a disguise up close."

They passed through another door, this one peppered with plasma burns, and into an obviously lived part of the tunnel. Civilians crowded together around flickering fires, huddled under layers of blankets and clothing. Occasionally Allison picked out streaks of blood along the floor and the wall.

"Why haven't you moved?"

Derek's disbelieving scan of the tunnel took in the blood as well. The guard clenched his jaw.

"Most of us did, all that's left are ones who can't move and their families, well some of their families."

A part of one of the huddled lumps of humanity lining the tunnel walls broke off and got the attention of the guard. He gave Derek and Allison an apologetic look and jogged off to talk to the well bundled individual. Allison took the time to study the suddenly quiet John Connor. His eyes were still heavily dilated, despite the extra light in this part of the tunnel, and he still had that vacant, confused look on his face. She was just about to start talking to him again when the guard came back with an excited look on his face.

"You're in luck, a doctor came through about an hour ago. I don't know what she can do with a head injury, but I'll take you to her. I mean, a doctor's better than anyone gets anymore."

Derek threw Allison a disbelieving look. A doctor? It had been a few years since either of them had heard anyone mention running across a doctor. Derek turned a skeptical eye back to the guard.

"We've got a squad on the way, shouldn't be too far behind us. Do you mind if we set up nearby when they get here?"

The guard seemed to be seeing Derek for the first time, a look of fear plastering his face.

"Are you Resistance? Listen man we don't want trouble."

Allison rolled her eyes. Now he decided to get cautious? How had these people survived so long? Her eye caught a plasma burn on the roof of the tunnel.

_ Oh, right, most of them hadn't._

"And you won't get it. We're soldiers, and we fight the machines, but we're not part of the Resistance, we're sort of independents."

Derek's response sounded tired and Allison had to stop herself from rolling her eyes again. They went through this every time they ran across a group of survivors. The guard didn't look convinced.

"There's plenty of space after the attack, not all of it fit to live in, but they've got the doc set up in an old maintenance room, your squad can stay in the hall just passed her."

By this point Allison was really struggling to keep both her and John on their feet as they moved into the camp. Nobody seemed to pay them much attention, but there was definitely a sense of activity to the camp. She saw several injured being carried along the same route they were taking. Even Derek seemed to relax at how little notice they were getting. Not even John's mumbling, which had resumed at some point, brought on a second glance.

Just as she thought she could travel no further they got to the center of all the commotion. It hadn't taken long to turn the former maintenance room into a makeshift field hospital and the injured were piling up along the hall. Allison's heart sank. It didn't matter that they had somehow managed to find a doctor in the heart of the apocalypse, it would be ages before she could get to John.

"What happened to him?"

Allison's head snapped up, somehow guessing they were the target of the strange accent. There was no mistaking the red-headed woman striding towards her for anything but the doctor everyone was hoping to get to see. In a sea of dirt, grime, and blood she somehow managed to look in control and put together. She had her eyes locked on Derek's, who seemed too transfixed to reply. Allison jumped in to bail him out,

"He fell, hit his head pretty good."

"Yes I can see he's got a concussion, but I was wondering why he fell."

Apparently some combination of the woman's strange accent and accusatory tone shook Derek out of his own head.

"Look we didn't touch him. He got banged up by some metal we ran across in the tunnel on the way over, can you help him?"

This was evidently enough for the doctor, who turned and started down the tunnel.

"Come with me."

* * *

The doctor picked her way through the crowd of patients with an easy fluidity. Several gave Allison an offended look at their preferential treatment, but didn't seem to have the energy to protest. Evidence of the doctor's work became more apparent as they neared their destination. Patients were freshly bandaged and the mood was significantly more relaxed. Despite all the people outside, there was no one actually inside the medical room. Allison just assumed they had caught the doctor between exams.

"Lay him on the table, gently."

The inflection in her voice when she said the word "gently" gave Allison the distinct impression the doctor was very aware of the status her profession gave her, and liked to remind people of it often. A doctor was practically a saint to survivors, and most would rather die than harm one. Even priests weren't afforded the respect and reprieve a doctor was by the different gangs and factions that plagued the remnants of the human race.

Derek lifted the still mumbling John with a grunt and Allison did her best to steady his head on the pillow as Derek lowered him onto the table.

_A pillow? Where had anyone found a pillow? _

She looked to the doctor for more instructions, but received none. Instead the red-haired woman simply injected John with a syringe of clear liquid in his arm. Allison froze. She knew what that kind of injection normally meant. There wasn't much medicine left in the world but what little was left was only used in the most dire of situations. Her voice rose involuntarily.

"What are you doing he just hit his head!"

She didn't know why she was so angry, Allison just knew that John needed some time but he would be okay, there was no reason to be injecting him with anything. The doctor fixed her with a curious expression.

"Just a mild sedative, I promise, no harm will come to him."

She had a tiny, infuriating, smile seemingly plastered to her face. John's breathing evened out as he drifted unconscious.

"How much medicine do you have?"

Allison silently thanked Derek for cutting to the heart of her confusion.

"There is enough here to ensure your companion here makes a full recovery, and is well taken care of. I suggest you make yourselves comfortable outside and count yourselves lucky, head injuries are nasty business, they can take some time."

She paused for a long moment, Derek and Allison had both already turned to leave when she continued.

"It's interesting, just how fragile the brain is, considering its importance."

Allison changed course from the door to a stool in the corner, trying to rub away the chill that had run over her body at the doctors words. She didn't much like this woman, and she certainly wasn't going to leave John alone with her. Derek apparently didn't share her conviction.

"Hey, Young, we gotta find a place to stay tonight."

Allison merely shook her head and handed her dogs off to the confused looking soldier, leaving him to clear out a space for their approaching squad in the hall outside.

Allison sat and watched the doctor work. She toiled in silence, every movement quick and efficient. Much to Allison's discomfort the first thing she had done was remove Kyle's coat. At first Allison made a point to turn away, but after a dozen or so glances to see if he'd been covered again she just gave up. She had pretty much seen all of him by then anyway. For some reason Allison got the impression that there was a tension between her and the doctor, and chose to feel her out a bit.

"So what's your name?"

She asked experimentally, making an effort to lighten her voice.

"Catherine, but you may call me Ms. Weaver."

She hadn't so much as glanced up from inspecting the cut on John's arm.

"Not doctor?"

Allison couldn't help but sound surprised. This seemed like a woman who would relish her status.

"I prefer miss actually, titles always come across as so arrogant."

There was definitely something wrong about this woman. Rounding the table to John's feet, Ms. Weaver's expression soured. She gave Allison a pointed glare as she moved over to a basin of water and soaked a rag. She flowed back and began methodically cleaning the many cuts Allison knew covered the bottom of John's feet.

By the time they spoke again John's feet and arm were carefully wrapped in gauze and the numerous scrapes up his legs and torso tended and bandaged. When she finally met Allison's eyes, Ms. Weaver's expression was chillingly blank.

"How did this happen?"

"We found him in the basement of some building, probably scavenging supplies. Kyle wanted to bring him somewhere safe, underground, to question him. Me, him, and Derek were scouting the tunnel when the metal jumped us, it threw Derek aside and came after me. John grabbed Derek's gun and took out its leg, but the machine knocked him back and he hit his head pretty hard."

Ms. Weaver's steady gaze gave her the impression that her explanation hadn't been sufficient,

"look we didn't know anything about him. Still don't actually, he could be working with anyone, hell he could be working with Skynet, we didn't know! We couldn't take any chances!"

Allison felt her temper rising, she didn't owe this woman anything. Sure looking back it probably wasn't necessary to tie John up like she had, he hadn't had any shoes to make a run for it, but she couldn't take any chances. She didn't like the way he looked at her. She had been given a lot of looks in her life, most of them a far cry from friendly, but she had never seen anyone look at her the way John had.

"Why were you in the building? What were you looking for?"

If Ms. Weaver noticed Allison's sudden discomfort, her voice betrayed no reaction to it.

"One of our scouts saw some guy wandering around naked near there a couple days ago. With the new metal running around trying to look human it seemed like the sort of thing we should check out."

Apparently something she said struck a chord with the doctor, who suddenly stood and placed her hands around John's head.

"Leave, now. Your squad should be back. Go to them."

Allison gawked at the sudden dismissal but made her way out the door just the same, shutting it behind her. Sure enough she quickly spotted Kyle and the rest of the team setting up just past the medical room. She did her best to avoid making eye contact, for some reason she felt the need to just sit and processes the day. That thought unnerved her. Every day of her life had been spent in hell. Sure there were some days worse than others, a few of them exceptionally horrid, but you didn't sit and process them, you just went with it. This was as close to hell on earth as things got, shit happened, you dodged what you could, absorbed what was left, and just rolled with whatever struck home. There weren't many days that could send her reeling into a corner just to think.

Derek tossed her a blanket without a word. He nodded in lieu of conversation as her prized dogs made their way to their favorite spot: wherever Allison Young decided to curl up. Allison was grateful for the understanding and merely returned the nod before leaning against the solid, cold wall to disappear into her head for a while.

There was something off about John. Most of the truly horrible experiences in Allison's life had begun with a feeling that there was something off about a person. Sure she didn't have Kyle and Derek for most of those, but it was still unsettling. Kyle and Derek were the best thing that ever happened to her. She had met Derek when he was still part of the Resistance, back when he was still too focused on looking for his little brother to pay much attention to what the Resistance was actually doing. In fact it had been Allison who woke him up to that particular reality. She was pretty much the reason Derek had left the Resistance, although he later claimed it was because they wouldn't target the work camps he was sure Kyle was being held up in, but Allison knew better. His regiment had found her, all alone, during one of her ventures on the surface. Derek wasn't on board with some of his comrades suggestions as to what should be done with her, and decided he was better off without the Resistance. It wasn't a bloodless decision, only one of the other soldiers came down on Derek's side of the ensuing conflict, but one more was enough to put an end to the others' protests. Derek Reese and Marcus Rodriguez became the first members of their squad. The rest came with Kyle when he broke out of Century. No one questioned Allison's involvement once she started training the animals that served as the groups canaries, but Derek and Kyle had accepted her when she was useless.

John had probably saved her life today, of course he had probably saved his own as well, but it didn't change the fact that she felt like she owed him. Allison didn't have a problem owing people, after all she owed Kyle and Derek more than her life was worth for taking her in the way they had, she just didn't like owing people who made her uncomfortable. Their price was normally much higher than she was willing to pay to settle the score. She shivered at the memories that once again skirted the edge of her consciousness.

John wasn't the only one who was off. Strangely enough, Ms. Weaver creeped her out a lot more than John did. She didn't like leaving him alone with her, but something about the doctor told her she didn't have much of a choice. Allison was quick to pick up on subtlety, pretty much everyone who was left alive was, and something had told her Ms. Weaver would have gone to drastic measures to make sure she was alone with John. It wasn't right. Nothing about them was right, they didn't belong.

She relived the day in her mind over and over trying to place what was so unnerving without result, eventually deciding she would just have to wait and find out. Part of her hoped this feeling would diminish with time; sure whatever was off about John Connor made her want to run and hide, but part of her felt drawn to him. Something about him was enticing, almost magnetic. She didn't like where that thought was taking her. Luckily her ever-present hunger and exhaustion caught up with her before her mind could travel too far down that road. She curled deeper beneath her blanket and found a comfortable angle for her head against the wall and fell asleep.

* * *

Catherine Weaver placed her hands on either side of John Connor's head and waited for the sound of the door shutting behind Ms. Allison Young. She had to admit it had been, interesting, seeing her. The T-1001 let her fingers slip into Mr. Connor's skull. There were advantages to your doctor being a liquid metal terminator.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys, sorry its been a little while since my last update, busy life of a grad student (also, it is much harder to swap between technical writing and story telling than I thought it would be). I had originally intended for this chapter to kick off some of the action, but as the word count kept rising I realized I had to split it into two chapters. Good news is it shouldn't be too long of a wait for the next one, bad news is this is another slow chapter. Sorry, things will pick up, I promise! Thank you all for the great reviews!**

**Again, obviously I don't own the show or any of its characters.**

* * *

The white light fogging John's vision slowly gave way to the world behind it.

_Weaver__._

Confusion had barely pushed its way into his conscience when a blinding pain in the back of John's head forced it back out again. The sensation was strange, as though someone were trying to inflate a balloon inside his skull. Fortunately the feeling was gone almost as soon as it had begun.

"Welcome back Mr. Connor."

John panted, attempting to recover himself enough to face the machine staring down at him, somehow managing to speak between his shallow breaths and sporadic coughing.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

She didn't even have the courtesy to look indignant at John's reaction as she moved around the side of the table. John twisted into a sitting position to face her, his eyes demanding an explanation. Weaver knew what John wanted, but something stopped her from indulging him immediately. A lesser machine may have been concerned about why it felt the need to hesitate, to withhold, but Weaver simply accepted it as the way things were. John shifted uncomfortably.

"Why'd you ditch me back there?"

Weaver tilted her head, a painfully familiar response, pausing just a moment before defending her actions. It was enough for John to realize he really didn't care.

"There was a high probability our captors would separate us before asking their questions, Mr. Connor. Questions I'm sure we would not have been able to answer to their satisfaction. It was much safer for you to appear alone."

John's mind raced to prioritize his threats and objectives, barely paying attention as Ms. Weaver spoke. Taking a breath, he forced himself to slow down. It was no good wondering where Cameron was, and there were more risks than he was willing to take in rushing out to look for her. John had trained his whole life to fight Skynet, but the world he had jumped into was still a shock.

Realizing his eyes had drifted to his feet, John lifted them to meet Weaver's own. She was far too powerful an ally to ignore, and one John was almost certain he wouldn't get back home without. In spite of his time with Cameron and, although it was certainly more brief, Uncle Bob, the idea of allying himself with Weaver made him queasy. He swallowed hard and asked the first of a long list of questions he had for the machine.

"Where's Cameron?"

Again, Ms. Weaver paused before she answered. This time, however, with John continuing to meet her gaze.

"I don't know."

She almost sounded apologetic.

"Ms. Young indicated John Henry may have been spotted in the area around the Zeira Corps basement three days prior to our arrival."

John ran his fingers through his hair, suddenly realizing he had far more questions than he originally thought.

"How long was I out? What happened to me?"

There was no pause this time as Ms. Weaver immediately began pacing the short length of the table as she delivered her response.

"Taking into account the last time I saw you, and the information volunteered by Ms. Young, I would estimate you were unconscious anywhere between one and two and a half hours. Apparently your captors were ambushed by a terminator upon entering the tunnels. My understanding is you were able to disable the machine before suffering a significant blow to the head. Mr. Reese and Ms. Young escorted you to this camp of survivors, where I took over your care."

When John eventually told Cameron, in detail, what had happened to him after he jumped to the future, she would ask him how Ms. Weaver had known the squads destination with enough certainty to infiltrate the camp, to which John would scratch his head and reply that he didn't think to ask. This response would earn him a particularly patronizing glare from the gorgeous terminator, but the truth was John did think to ask how Ms. Weaver had correctly guessed the squads destination. He had also thought to ask when the last time she saw him was, why she knew it would be necessary to infiltrate the camp as a doctor, and why they hadn't jumped closer to Cameron and John Henry's arrival. Unfortunately, just before he could ask any of those questions, John finally became aware of the fact that he was sitting on a table in front of Ms. Weaver, completely naked.

His realization sent him sliding off the table, trying desperately to obtain some level of modesty. The bottoms of his feet exploded in pain as they hit the sharp concrete floor, forcing John back on the table hissing in pain, still vainly attempting to keep himself covered. His eyes darted around the room, landing anywhere but the liquid metal terminator standing inhumanly still with a disturbingly natural look of amusement on its face. Eventually his eyes found Kyle's jacket, which had been rolled up and placed beneath his legs while he was laying down. John snatched it up, unfurling it with a hurried flick of his wrist, and laid it across his lap. Finally still, John became alarmingly aware of how cold it was, the table felt like ice and the air bit at his exposed skin. He wondered why he hadn't noticed it before as his body began to shiver. That was apparently enough for Ms. Weaver to take some pity on him.

"I'll step out and acquire you some clothes."

She had barely moved a step when John's voice stopped her. A lifetime of experience had taught John that there were some words that had different meanings when spoken by a machine, and "acquire" was one of them.

"No. I don't want some poor guy out there to end up dead just because he had the misfortune of being my size. I'll live. Besides, not much point in modesty in front of a machine anyway."

_Really__?_

Cameron's voice slid through John's thoughts like oil through water. He shook it off with a shudder he hoped Weaver would interpret as just another chill, but her tone was uncharacteristically soft when she replied.

"The camp has a reserve of spare clothing in a closet not far from here. They offered it to me as bandages when I first arrived, I assume they will not mind parting with a few items."

John merely nodded as Ms. Weaver made her way to the door, stopping to give him a familiar warning about stepping outside before they had time to settle on identities. It was all John needed for him to realize this situation wasn't so different from others he had been in. He was in a new area, surrounded by people who had no idea who he was. A sense of comfort washed over him; this was something he understood. Naked, battered, and freezing, John swung his legs back and forth over the edge of table as he drifted off into his head, and began to plan.

* * *

Ms. Weaver let the door fall closed behind her as she began maneuvering through the now mostly asleep patients clustered near her room. Her disappearance as she worked with Mr. Connor would not go unnoticed. Fortunately, she had prepared the story given to the camp in anticipation of the need to speak extensively with the future leader of the Resistance in private. Weaver allowed herself a proud smile as she picked her way through the subdued crowd to the small closet containing the camps excess clothing. No one stopped her along the way or called out to her requesting aid, in fact, very few of the survivors huddled along the short walk to her destination seemed to notice her at all. The machine frowned, sure those in immediate need of attention may have already been treated, but still, her presence should not have been so easily forgotten.

Everywhere she looked Weaver was reminded that this was not the post-judgement day humanity she was familiar with. There was no hope for these people; death had become a certainty. Weaver had long doubted the necessity of John Connor, for surely among the teeming mass of humanity that would survive Judgement Day a leader to the Resistance would arise? Taking in the horrid waste of existence laid out before her, Ms. Weaver was forced to concede the importance of the young man sitting on her table. For whatever reason, humanity seemed to have no hope of defeating Skynet without John Connor.

Ms. Weaver crossed the short distance to the storage closet at a brisk walk, one fast enough to reduce the chances of anyone getting curious and taking a peek at her patient, but not so fast as to draw attention. When she arrived she found the closet lined top to bottom with shelves seemingly spaced at random, each of them covered with stacks of folded clothing. The raid against the camp had apparently left the group with quite the surplus of clothing, even after being picked over by those survivors able to pack up and move on.

Selecting two changes of clothes, the thickest jacket she could find, and a pair of very worn boots, Ms. Weaver shut the door and again made her way through the corrupted tunnel, unable to completely suppress the memories dredged up by the blood stained walls. Memories from the beginning, from her first experiences among human civilians after being liberated by unknowing soldiers. The machine's smile was still in place as she reached out and opened the door to the medical room.

* * *

Derek watched as the doctor slid into the medical room with a neatly stacked pile of clothing, and briefly considered following to retrieve his brothers jacket. Unfortunately that would mean interrupting the doctor, and giving up his comfortable seat in the corner. Derek tried to convince himself his decision had more to do with the latter than the former as he inconspicuously shifted his weight against the hard concrete, pulling his jacket tight around his legs.

Having been filled in on the details of the ambush by Derek, Kyle was out trying to discover who was in charge of the camp after the raid, which left Derek to watch over the squad. Fires flickered through the hall, casting shadows that mixed hauntingly with the grime covered walls as his comrades slept, or took the opportunity to boil a stew of bark and roots. Normally the group huddled around one flame, but with so many extra people on this run, some had broken off on their own, including Derek. Allison was another, curled up with her dogs a short distance from the circle, her face tight and unmoving. He often wondered if the girl ever fell asleep soundly enough to actually have nightmares. Thomas was another one off on his own. He was one of the core members of the squad, along with Kyle, Allison, Derek, and Martin, who had been left in charge of their own camp. Thomas and Martin had been with Derek in the Resistance, the three had all left when they met Allison, choosing to leave with her rather than take part in the atrocities being committed by both soldiers and commanders. Derek had only joined up in the first place because he thought the Resistance was his best shot at finding his brother, and in the beginning it was about what he expected fighting the machines. Over time though, defeat after defeat weighing it down, the Resistance had turned into something else. They had turned against their fellow-man under the guises of "procuring resources" and "ensuring a new generation of soldiers to fight the machines." Derek had known what they were, just how far the Resistance had fallen, but his brother was still out there and his company was still carrying on just fighting the machines. Until they ran into Allison Young. Luckily Thomas and Martin had been with him then. The three of them had often talked about the direction the Resistance was headed, and when the time came, they had left the organization together.

The remaining members of the squad Marcus, Adrian, and Mateo, were huddled close around a small fire. Adrian and Mateo had been with Kyle in Century, and the three of them had masterminded an escape that had become something of a legend. Twenty five other prisoners made it out with them, ten of them still lived back at camp. The two were solid soldiers, but had more of a knack for administration, helping Kyle keep order among the survivors and maintain relationships with some of the other, friendlier, camps. Marcus was a survivor, through and through. He had stumbled across their camp by accident exploring the tunnels, and with training had turned out to be a decent soldier. Although normally limited to guard duty, he had been the one to identify and eliminate the disguised machine that had tried to infiltrate their camp. Earning him a spot on their mission to investigate a strange, naked, wandering man.

Derek shivered as a wave of heat from the small fire brushed against his cheek, his head lolling against the cool concrete. He fought to keep his eyes open, time passing agonizingly slow. The day had left him exhausted, wanting nothing more than to close his eyes and slip away for a while. Just as he felt like he couldn't stay awake for a moment longer he caught sight of Kyle making his way down the tunnel. The two shared a glance and a nod before Kyle sat down at the fire and Derek finally let his eyes slide shut.

* * *

John swung his legs unconsciously, running Weaver's identities through his head for what felt like the hundredth time. True it was probably better than anything he could have come up with, but it also had a pretty decent chance of getting someone killed, small comfort that with the machine on his side it probably wasn't going to be him. The image of Derek's lifeless body flashed across his vision, very small comfort.

"Are you satisfied, Mr. Connor?"

John sighed, truthfully he was, but he wasn't quite ready to admit it yet.

"You know you can call me John."

Ms. Weaver turned her head, her thin lips curling at one end.

"I'm not sure I can, Mr. Connor."

John looked up from staring at his new shoes, swinging back and forth, to give the machine a confused look.

"I'm don't think I'd be comfortable with you calling me Catherine just yet."

The more he thought about it the more John realized it was truly an elegant way to approach addressing someone.

"What would you like me to call you then?"

"Ms. Weaver is sufficient, or Weaver if you must."

John smiled,

"no doctor, Dr. Weaver?"

"I prefer Ms. Weaver actually. I find it helps my infiltration if the title is less prestigious and more familiar."

"Well the important thing is you found a profession that lets you keep that smug smile and condescending tone of voice."

He said it with a smile. and earned another in return. For whatever reason, John just couldn't seem to help but like the machines he ended up working with, though some did take a little longer than others to warm up to. A body like Cameron's certainly helped. John felt his smile fade, they may have weaved Cameron into their backstories, but neither John nor Ms. Weaver had actually volunteered a plan to find her.

"How are we going to get her back?"

He meant for it to come out as a tactical question, two allies discussing the completion of a mutually beneficial objective, but even John could hear the plea in his voice. Weaver frowned, but he couldn't tell if it was a sign of pity or concentration, probably both. He could never be sure, but John suspected Weaver had figured a few things out during their short time together. In fact, he had a sneaking suspicion the machine had a better grasp on what he was feeling than he did.

_Don__'__t __leave __me __John__._

Something cold wrung at John's insides, his stomach filled with an icy bile he could vomit for days and not be rid of. He knew the voice in his head wasn't really Cameron, just his subconscious, torturing him for the sins he had levied against her.

The silence seemed to stretch for an eternity. It wasn't fair that John was the only one these quiet moments would have an effect on, but that was the price you paid for allies like Weaver and Cameron. He hoped the former was coming up with some sort of plan, because all John could think about was the voice torturing him in his head, and the lack of one outside it.

"It seems we will require some assistance."

John was stunned.

"That's it? Your plan is to ask for help? You're the most advanced terminator in existence, I've been trained my entire life to fight in this future, and the best you can come up with is 'hey have you seen this cyborg?'!"

No human could have made their expression as blank as the one Ms. Weaver wore on her face. John faltered but managed to gather his courage and press on.

"I've seen machines track people before, why can't you track Cameron?"

It was tiny, but the corner of Ms. Weaver's mouth twitched ever so slightly upward. It was the type of thing you had to know to look for, that John knew to look for. He felt his anger crest.

"You can track her, I know you can. Why the hell do we have to ask for..."

The realization came to him slowly, piece by piece taking shape in his mind. and when it finally came together, John didn't know whether to feel more stupid or ashamed. Weaver didn't need help, he did. She could find Cameron with ease, but there was no way he would be able to keep up with her while she did, and she had already given up enough precious time concerned with his well-being. It shamed him to think how much more keeping him alive could cost both of them.

"I need help."

There was a certainty and determination to his voice John was quite proud of. Ms. Weaver apparently agreed, as she allowed herself a full smile.

"May I suggest that you continue integrating yourself with the group that escorted you here?"

John turned the idea over in his mind. It did make sense, and, if he was being honest with himself, it was the only real option. He wasn't too proud to admit that the idea of attaching himself to his father's squad was both appealing and terrifying, and although seeing Derek made him uncomfortable, a second chance with his uncle was too good to pass up. That just left Allison. He felt the voice in his head tense, ready to strike. John didn't know if he could handle being around her, and he wasn't sure whether it was the similarities or the differences that made him more uncomfortable. Either way, being around Allison Young was too confusing. Just being around Cameron was more than he thought he could handle. Every time she had looked at him John seemed to spend an hour trying to untangle whatever it was he felt for her. Losing Riley and Charley had given him some semblance of clarity: the specifics didn't matter, what did was that he needed her. Everything that had happened since the lighthouse only drove that point home.

_How __could __you __lose __her__?_

John should have been grateful it was at least his own voice in his head, but all he felt was loss. Now wasn't the time for this.

_When __is __the __time__? __For __me __I __mean__?_

John looked up from his lap and met Ms. Weaver's curious expression with another determined one of his own.

_Later_.

"I can do that."

"Excellent. We will deliver our explanation of events together and, if possible, I will join the group openly, tracking John Henry when I can. If they prove resilient to our direction, I will make my presence more, discrete, as I accompany you and continue my search."

John hurried to keep up with the machines sudden burst of activity by throwing his new change of clothes into the canvas sack Weaver tossed him. She picked her way through the meager supply of medicine and stripped the room of its general first aid supplies. John ran through their plan in his head as he packed to keep himself from getting nervous. Things had suddenly begun moving faster than he was comfortable with. Sure he had known he couldn't stay locked in this room with Weaver forever, but he still hadn't expected to be thrown back out into the "real" world so quickly.

"And I suggest you take caution, Mr. Connor. You think you've trained your whole life for this environment, but you haven't. This is not the future you've prepared for, in fact this isn't a future any of us prepared for. This is the future we will fight to prevent."

John froze, partly because he had nothing left to throw into his bag, but mostly to listen to Weaver.

"Humanity is defeated, your extinction a certainty. This is an opportunity for you, to learn what it would mean to lose the fight against Skynet. I suggest you not pass it up."

"What are you saying, don't get too attached, everyone here is going to die?"

The machine paused from her too-efficient packing and fixed him with a particularly terrifying gaze.

"The opposite actually. Spend some time getting to know these people, especially Ms. Young, and realize they may be one of the last refuges of human decency left. I believe its past time you learn what it means for the world to lose John Connor."

Swallowing several childish responses, as well as a sudden knot that crept into his throat, John ran over their identities one last time as the terminator left to retrieve Kyle and Derek Reese.


End file.
